


to freeze many nights over

by Care



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-02
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-08-12 12:37:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7934827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Care/pseuds/Care
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cat Grant wins the Daily Planet's "Woman of the Year" award. Kara's just along for the ride.</p>
            </blockquote>





	to freeze many nights over

**Author's Note:**

> My love and thanks to [mermaidandthedrunks](http://mermaidandthedrunks.tumblr.com/) for reading and re-reading and critiquing and probably being surprised that this went up at all. Oops. I got impatient.
> 
> Goes AU sometime during Siobhan's tenure. Rating is most definitely, very certainly for part two.

 

*

 

_I have reservoirs of want enough_  
_to freeze many nights over._  
  
_— Conor O'Callaghan, "January Drought"_

 

*

 

Kara's about to be late again.

Not even Supergirl has the ability to reverse time, and the wind rushes against her ears as she spirals in loose circles back down to National City. She lands neatly on the CatCo roof, dropping to her knees as she yanks her phone out to check — 10:14 AM. Naturally, there'd be an apartment building on fire just as Kara was getting prepared to fetch Cat's latte. Kara remembers the solidity of the people she pulled out from the burning frame, the taste of the black smoke in the back of her throat as she blew it away.

Worth it. Of course. That's the problem. Being Supergirl is always worth it.

Not that Kara could ever tell Cat Grant.

She slides into her chair at 10:16, glasses perched on her nose, hair pulled back. There's still adrenaline kicking through her blood, spikes of energy that seems to make everything in her vision somehow even sharper than usual. Kara takes a deep breath and waits for it to die away, hoping with every bit of her that her tardiness has somehow gone unnoticed by Cat.

That would be a miracle, but Kara's always been optimistic.

"Kiera," Cat says, walking past her desk without looking at her. "My office. Now."

Kara jumps, startled, and immediately hates herself for it. She has super hearing. She can see through walls. There's absolutely no excuse for her to be _surprised_ by the sudden arrival of her boss, and yet. Kara scrambles to gather up her tablet, clumsy, because even after all this time, Cat still makes her nervous. Stupid. Like a puppy with paws too big for its body. Cat doesn't break her stride, waltzing straight through into her office.

"I won," Cat says, smug, as she pours herself a finger of scotch. "I didn't know if I would, but somehow I edged out both Beyonce _and_ Lois Lane." She laughs around the rim of the glass as she takes a lingering sip. "Oh, Lois. Couldn't keep up."

Cat's in a good mood. A _very_ good mood. Kara mentally pages back through her memories, trying to figure out what Cat's won. She's been up for so many awards, honestly, it's hard to keep track. What had Cat even been doing recently? There was a fundraiser for a senatorial race that she attended last week — Siobhan had to deal with that. Kara had received a last-minute call from the DEO. There had been the charity auction for Carter's school, and — _oh_. Kara remembers something.

"Oh my god," she blurts out. "Did you win the Daily Planet's Woman of the Year?"

 

*

 

It starts back in the fall — the Daily Planet is introducing something new, to bolster its readership. It's hard to stay in the journalism game these days. Anyone can write an editorial, find a way to get it published online. Cat herself has unearthed talent from the depths of the internet. There's a girl that she found while browsing Medium, writing about transatlantic adoption and how she grew up Korean in an all-white town in Kansas. Cat's planning on launching her with a whole slew of other young voices on a new web venture.

That's innovative. Apparently, giving out your own awards is just imbecilic.

"Who do they think they are now? Time?" Cat laughs, leaning in towards her computer screen. "God, they just get more desperate by the day. And by popular vote too. As if the public can be trusted."

But it's not long before she's invested. Kara starts checking the poll every hour. Cat's neck-in-neck with Beyonce, and Lois is inching her way up the charts.

"Wouldn't it be funny if I won the Daily Planet's Woman of the Year award?" Cat muses. Kara gets used to hearing it at least four times a day. She doesn't mind. It always seems to cheer Cat up.

The poll's supposed to close on a Wednesday night. Midnight on the East Coast, but 9 PM for National City. Kara watches Downton Abbey with Alex, distracted by the weight of her phone perched on her knee. She keeps refreshing the page for the poll. Cat insists that she doesn't care about the outcome, but Kara suspects that she does now. Gotten herself in too deep.

"You're going to break your phone if you keep grabbing it like that," Alex comments mildly, her eyes focused on the TV. "Stop it. The world won't end if you don't find out the results immediately. Cat Grant can wait until after this episode is over."

"Ha," Kara says and hits refresh again.

Which.

No.

"A tie?! To be decided at the discretion of the Daily Planet staff?!" Cat snarls the next morning, stalking in from her elevator in one of the blackest moods Kara's ever witnessed. "It's rigged in Lois's favor now. Forget it."

And because Kara values her job and her life (which she knows is an exaggeration, but sometimes it _feels_ like Cat might be able to murder her), she never mentions it in Cat's presence again. She honestly forgets about it.

Though, well, it's clear that Cat didn't. As evidenced by her standing in front of Kara, holding her scotch and looking absolutely delighted with the world and everything in it. It's…weird.

"Keep up, Kiera," Cat says, though her tone's lost its usual bite. It's all giddiness. Still weird. "Of course I'm talking about the Woman of the Year award. And I won it from out under Lois Lane's nose. Her own paper! This is the most satisfying thing that's happened in years."

She pauses and draws near Kara, the scotch still in one hand. Her perfume is familiar, warm and floral, with that sharp grapefruit undertone that Kara associates with the office and Cat. "You know, I heard that some of the staffers actually wanted to throw the whole vote out and give the award to Supergirl."

Kara tries very hard to keep her expression still, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from exclaiming. "Really?" she manages, hoping her voice is steady. She's — she's not sure how she feels about that. For a second she imagines walking across a stage to receive Cat's coveted award, her cape swishing behind her. Yeah, Kara thinks. That could be pretty cool.

"Mmhmm." Cat sits down on the couch, tilting her head back with a satisfied sigh. "I beat out Supergirl."

Cat winning isn't bad either, Kara tells herself, and smiles. "Congratulations, Miss Grant. It's very well-deserved."

"Oh, of course it is," Cat says, her eyes flicking up at Kara, hovering by the coffee table. "Anyway, the award ceremony is in Metropolis this weekend. I'll need the jet. The actual dinner is on Saturday, but I'd like to spend Friday night in the city. Make sure the brownstone's ready before I get there. Last time there wasn't orange juice and I had to run out at 10 PM to a bodega to get some."

"I'll take care of everything," Kara promises.

A half-day on Friday then. Cat's rarely absent from the office, but that means Kara will be able to take a longer lunch as long as she has her phone with her. It'll be nice. She'll be able to hang out with Winn at his desk and bug him about Minecraft again, and maybe James would like to have lunch with her, and —

"Make sure you have something appropriate to wear to the dinner."

"What?"

 _What?_ No. That's not — the dinner's in _Metropolis._

Cat arches a perfect eyebrow, her voice cooling significantly. "Why do you sound so surprised, Assistant Number Two? I'll need someone with me while I'm in Metropolis. Just because I'm traveling doesn't mean I don't have work that needs to be accomplished."

"It's just — um — you've never asked for me to go with you anywhere before. I mean, uh." Kara can feel her face heating up, flushing pink as Cat regards her.

"I didn't _need_ someone with me before, but now I do. But I understand if you have plans for this weekend already, Kiera. No, no. I get it. I'll take Siobhan with me to Metropolis. I'm sure she'll do wonderfully as my _singular_ assistant. She's someone who values her job."

"Oh, no, Miss Grant, I didn't mean — "

"It seems like maybe working for me isn't that important to you anymore, Kiera. A pity, but I understand. I'll tell HR that you're looking to transfer — "

"I'll find a dress for the dinner," Kara blurts out.

Cat looks pleased again, leaning back in her seat. "Then it's all settled. We'll leave Friday at noon and come back Sunday. Now, here's what I'd like you to organize."

If Kara wasn't an alien superhero, her hand might have cramped from how fast Cat talked after that.

 

*

 

"What?" Alex says, her mouth full of rice. It comes out all muffled, and she does her best to swallow. "Sorry, uh, _what?_ I could have sworn I heard you say that you're going with Cat Grant to Metropolis and you can't do any work for the DEO for the next three days."

Kara pokes at the dumplings in her takeout container, nudging them aside with her chopsticks. She avoids the stunned faces of everyone around her — Alex, Winn, James. They're all looking at her as if she's somehow sprouted wings. She quickly eats a potsticker. Ugh, she wishes Winn had stuck with her and Alex's standby Chinese place, but instead he wanted to order from this new restaurant he found on Yelp. Their potstickers aren't crispy enough. She stuffs two into her mouth anyway.

"Why…?" Winn says, trailing off.

James looks like he's trying really hard not to laugh, biting his lower lip, glancing off to the side.

"It's not, like, a big deal." Kara pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "Really. On the list of insane things she's wanted me to do, this actually ranks pretty low. I mean, it's not like she's trying to get Hamilton tickets. She's just never asked me to go with her on a trip before."

Winn snorts, reaching across the coffee table for a fortune cookie. "Maybe because she didn't want you to see her settle into her coffin for the night."

"Hey," Kara says, throwing a napkin at him. "Be nice. This is actually — I mean, it's a free trip to Metropolis. I might be able to, um, see Clark."

Alex sorts through her fried rice with a plastic fork, picking out bits of pork and eating them. There's a small, familiar furrow between her brows. Kara's seen it a thousand times. Anytime Kara's done something that Alex hasn't been totally on board with — the furrow.

"I think it'll be good," James says. "You're right. It's a free trip to Metropolis. You can try to meet up with Clark. It's been a while since you've seen him, right?"

Kara didn't know how much she had wanted someone to side with her until now. She grins at him, grateful. "Yeah. And — " she turns to face Alex. "I'm already in deep with Cat these days. She could have taken Siobhan but she didn't. I mean, she kind of threatened to. Come on, Alex. I can't lose my job."

It's not that Kara needs Alex's permission. She's an adult who can make adult decisions. Well, sometimes not so adult — like, Kara's still going to eat ice cream for dinner occasionally or not do laundry for three weeks until she's forced to do five loads because she's out of clean pants. It's just that Kara hates disappointing her sister. Other people's disappointments are easier to bear (maybe not Cat's, but certainly everyone else).

She knows Alex is about to give in though. She can see it in Alex's face.

"You should go," Alex says finally. "You're right. It's your boss asking and you could do with a few days off. Have fun. Relax."

Kara's relieved. "Won't be that much relaxing with Cat on the trip."

"Better come home with a good story," Winn says. "I want to know what type of blood Cat Grant prefers to bathe in. Does she stick with the classic virgin blood or has she branched out?"

They all groan and throw things and talk about the latest episode of Scandal instead. It's not until later, when Winn and James have left, and she's left with Alex to put away the leftovers that the Metropolis trip comes up again.

"Do you think it's going to be weird?" Alex makes room in the second row of the fridge, neatly stacking together the walnut shrimp and the cashew chicken.

"I hadn't thought about it," Kara lies because of course she has; it's all she's thought about. 

There's a list a mile long in her head, starting from wondering what Cat Grant's Metropolis brownstone even looks like — Kara's basically been in the lobby of Cat's penthouse, but never further than that. She's had documents messengered to Cat's beach house up the coast, though she has no idea what it looks like. Countries are probably smaller than Cat's residences. Where's Kara meant to stay anyway? Cat hasn't mentioned that Kara should book her own hotel room.

She can't think that Kara would stay in Cat's brownstone with Cat. No way. Kara can't even think about it for too long before she starts to blush.

"Don't let her work you too hard," Alex says, starting the dishwasher.

Kara laughs. "Yeah, okay. I'll tell her that. Right before she fires me."

 

*

 

On the plane — the CatJet, sleek and tasteful — Kara stares out the window and thinks about how she could fly faster than this. How she could be hurtling through the air, bursting in and out of clouds, feeling the warmth of earth's yellow sun pulse in her veins. There's nothing quite as wonderful as flying. Just the act of it is joyful. It clears Kara's mind, untangles her thoughts. She finds this version of it, strapped into a seat across a small table from a distracted Cat Grant, a very poor substitute.

It gives her an opportunity to study her boss though.

Kara's caught herself doing it before, but never in such close proximity. There's something about the way Cat tilts her head when she's thinking, her eyes unfocused like she's somewhere deep inside herself. Kara can practically see the way Cat's brain ticks, each piece fitting together in an elaborate jigsaw only Cat can puzzle out. A wavy strand of Cat's hair hangs loose by her cheek, but she doesn't seem to notice, and Kara is suddenly, breathlessly overwhelmed by the desire to brush it away.

She wonders about the touch of Cat's cheek, if her skin would be soft just beneath her cheekbone.

"Stop fidgeting, Kiera," Cat says, not looking up from her iPad. "Find something to do."

Kara swallows, blushing hotly. The airplane feels oddly small. "Sorry. Do you need anything, Miss Grant?"

"No, thank you. Relax. Watch a movie. Get a drink. Flying private will make you never want to fly commercial again. So disgusting, stuck in a tube in the sky with all those other people."

Kara thinks again about flying, the wind whipping across her face. Flying private has nothing on that. Instead she moves over to the other side of the cabin, settling for a seat by the window. It's quieter than it is on commercial airplanes, the humming of the engines reduced significantly, but Kara rather likes the white noise. The flight attendant brings her a glass of sparkling water and a choice of soft cookies and withdraws back to the kitchen after Cat dismisses him with a casual wave of her hand.

"You're not used to this," Cat says, locking her tablet. She sets it down on the table.

Kara has to swallow a mouthful of crazy delicious cookie before she can answer. "Not a lot of private planes where I grew up," she says, cupping a hand beneath her chin to catch the crumbs.

"That's true for most people."

"It's — nice," Kara adds stupidly.

Cat gives a little snort. "Thank you, Kiera. How eloquent."

It's hard to talk around Cat sometimes. Not that this is a new phenomenon, but lately Cat's eyes have been making Kara itchy. Shivery. She finds herself tongue-tied at the sight of Cat, standing in front of her television screens, or leaning over a layout on her desk. Kara has an idea what it could mean, what it shouldn't mean, and she's choosing not to examine it too closely. The idea scares her. (Plus, there's no way Alex would like it — whatever it is.) Kara shoves the thought out of her head.

"I mean. It's beautiful," she says.

"Yes," Cat says. She looks almost thoughtful. "It is. I pay a lot of money to keep it that way. I bought it after a particularly nasty fight with my mother. She said something about, oh, I don't know. Her usual. How I wasn't living up to my potential. That my fame was fleeting and I've made no lasting impact on the world. How I had never been intellectual enough for _real_ work, not like her."

She says it matter-of-factly. Clipped and impersonal. Cat could be talking about numbers, work, proofs. Anything. Kara bites her lip to stop herself from interrupting.

"I'm _not_ worried about my lasting impact," Cat says, voice suddenly sharp. "I'm not as wounded as my mother would like me to be. It bothers her. She hasn't said anything about my award, though no doubt she's heard by now. She's never enjoyed celebrating my accomplishments. At least, not those that didn't involve her."

I'm sorry, Kara wants to say. The words are on the tip of her tongue. She has her fingers around another cookie, but she isn't sure if she's allowed to eat it yet. She just nods, watching Cat's features.

Cat leans back against her seat. "In any case. You'll get used to the plane."

She will? "I will?"

"I have some meetings and events coming up that require travel, but I hate the messiness of being away from work. The solution is, of course, to take you with me. You can organize and help me. I mean, that _is_ your job, isn't it? To help me?"

"I — um," Kara stammers, unsure of how to proceed. She sees weeks and weeks in her future, stretching endlessly on, her and Cat on the CatJet, and National City left to fend for itself.

"Oh, Kiera, _do_ learn how to articulate things better. It's very unattractive, watching you struggle like that." Cat turns her tablet back on, her attention shifting from Kara back to work. Or whatever it is she was engrossed in.

Kara stares out the window, the cloud cover below them, and eats another cookie.

Shit.

 

*

 

It's raining when they land in Metropolis, and it immediately puts Cat in a bad mood. Kara thinks about cats and water and doesn't say make any jokes about hydrophobia (although she totally, totally would if it was anyone else) while she helps bundle Cat into the backseat of the waiting car. They pull onto the highway towards the city, the headlights bobbing in the slick darkness. Kara texts Alex — _safely landed._

"It's freezing," Cat mutters, looking through the rain-streaked window on her side. A delicate little shiver goes through her body.

Kara holds her phone in her lap, drumming her fingers lightly against the back. Thunder rumbles in the distance, punctuating the silence in the car. The windshield wipers make a steady swishing noise. There's something cozy about being dry when it's pouring out. It makes Kara think about summer thunderstorms — she and Alex curled up by the window seat in the upstairs hallway, feeling the heavy humidity in the air dissipate with the rain.

By the time they pull up at the brownstone, Cat's tried to fire four people. Kara manages to save three of four — there's nothing she can do about DJ in legal; Cat seems offended by his name on principle — and she's ordered dinner from Cat's favorite Japanese place to be delivered. They turn onto a small one-way street, the buildings packed tightly together, and the car slows to a stop. Kara cranes her head, but the rain distorts the image.

She's drenched the instant she climbs out of the car. Cat scurries beneath the shade of an umbrella, up the stairs and into the house so fast that Kara would think she had super speed if Kara didn't know any better.

"Wow," Kara says, following Cat through the door. She drips rainwater onto the floor of the foyer and freezes.

Cat makes a slightly disgusted sound. She disappears around the corner and returns with a fluffy towel that she thrusts into Kara's hands.

"Thanks," Kara says, sheepishly dabbing at her face and neck, wringing out her hair.

"Take your shoes off. Don't track mud in. And close the door, for god's sake."

Kara pads through the house on socked feet, the towel slung around her neck. It's not as big as she might have guessed — though plenty big for Cat and Carter, especially since it's not their primary residence. It's beautiful though. Elegant. Not quite to Cat's current taste. The furniture is older, slightly more worn, though everything is still immaculate. Cat goes through the rooms, switching on lights. She opens the fridge and doesn't say anything, but Kara knows she had it fully stocked. She ordered the groceries herself. Cat shuts the door again and crosses over to a counter to fill up the kettle.

"Tea weather," she says, setting it on the stove to boil. "Do you want black, green, or…peppermint? I think I have some peppermint. Maybe chamomile." Cat rummages through a cabinet.

Kara gingerly slides onto one of the stools at the island, feeling awkward about Cat being the one to make her tea. "Uh — whatever you're having. Thank you." She runs the towel over her hair again, self-conscious.

She watches Cat prep the tea. The very deliberate movements Cat makes. Everything with a purpose. It feels strangely intimate to observe Cat doing something domestic. She obviously knows the kitchen well, taking the teapot from the glass cabinet by the fridge. Getting down the tea canister with easy familiarity. (Cat has to strain on her tiptoes to reach for it, and Kara wonders what it would be like to put her hand against Cat's back to help.) Cat opens the cutlery drawer and closes it again with a bump of her hip. Reaches up idly for the honey. It's like she's been in this kitchen her entire life.

It's oddly hypnotic. Kara loses herself in Cat's gestures.

"Chamomile," Cat says, setting down a tray in front of Kara, shattering the spell. The teapot steams gently next to two empty mugs. She offers Kara a honey bear, placing it next to the mugs. "I thought you might want something sweet to put in. You're always cramming yourself full of candy."

It's somehow nice when Cat says it though, almost fond. Not that Kara would assume anything like that. She takes one of the mugs. "Thank you, Miss Grant."

The tea smells lovely. Herbal and comforting. Kara takes a huge gulp just as Cat says: "Careful. It's hot."

Oh. Right.

"Um," Kara manages, swallowing. "Ow?"

Cat rolls her eyes, walking over to the sink to fill up a glass from the tap. "Kiera, you have got to learn patience. Honestly, it's like bringing a puppy along. Now you've burned your tongue."

Kara nods vigorously in agreement, trying to pretend like she's hurt. She's at a disadvantage — she's not sure what a burned tongue is supposed to even feel like. She must have known at one point, a faraway memory tinged with red light, but Kara's childhood on Krypton blurs and shifts, magnifies small events and distorts big ones. Things like burned tongues have disappeared completely. Cat hands her the glass of water and Kara drinks it down in two swallows, hoping it's the most reasonable thing to do. The expression on Cat's face tells her it's probably not.

"Must be dehydrated from the flight," Cat says when Kara sets the glass back down.

"Yes. Of course. I mean, I am. Dehydrated. This house is beautiful!" Kara exclaims, trying to change the subject.

Cat's mouth twitches a little, like she's hiding a smile. "It has its advantages. Come on. Bring the tea. I'll show you the guest room."

It's dark and cold on the second floor. Kara hesitates on the landing, but Cat sweeps by her, heading straight up the staircase. Kara wonders what's there. Beyond a handful of doors and a few paintings on the wall, she doesn't get a chance to see the rest. Cat switches on the light on the third floor. Everything is shabbier here, homey. There's a child-sized desk on the landing, pushed into a corner. Kara squints at it, confused. Carter's? It's not like Cat to buy vintage. She hates touching anything pre-owned.

"You'll take this room. It's a little small, but it should be fine." Cat opens a door with a little push. It squeaks as it gives. "The bathroom's down the hall."

She flicks on the lights. The room is a bit cramped, largely taken up by a double bed and a dresser. There's a big window overlooking the back of the house, and Kara likes the rhythmic sound of rain falling against glass. She puts her mug of tea on the nightstand and sits on the bed experimentally. It gives a little beneath her weight.

She glances up to see Cat watching her with an unreadable look. "It's nice. Thank you."

"It could use a remodel," Cat replies, but the words don't have quite the edge to them Kara would expect. "There are clean towels in the bathroom. Just check the cabinet next to the tub. Feel free to help yourself to anything in the fridge, but I'd expect dinner to arrive any minute."

She turns to leave.

"Where — uh," Kara cuts herself off. Tries again. "Where are you sleeping, Miss Grant? In case, I don't know, of emergency?" 

It trails off a bit at the end, falling flat. Kara knows she's doing that thing Cat hates, making every sentence into a question. A millennial plague, or so Cat calls it.

Cat makes a vague gesture. "My room's next door. Oh, don't look so alarmed, Kiera. I'm not going to barge in at 4 AM demanding that you send an email. Maybe."

It takes Kara a second to realize Cat's joking. She lets out a forced laugh. It dies between them. Kara fiddles with the frame of her glasses again, panicky.

The doorbell rings.

"Oh! That must be, um, dinner," Kara stammers. "I'll just, uh — I'll get the door."

She squeezes past Cat in the doorway and puts on a burst of super speed once she reaches the second-floor landing. Oh god, she thinks, signing for the delivery, how is she supposed to handle cohabiting with Cat for the next three nights?

 

*

 

After dinner, Kara flees back to her room, mumbling something about needing to unpack. It doesn't seem quite necessary — Cat waves her off as she distractedly opens her laptop on the couch — but Kara still doesn't dare linger in the other rooms in the house. She feels like she can't quite breathe properly. Not until she opens the sticky window in her room, forcing the glass up with just a touch of super strength, does she manage to relax. The sound of the rain, steadily pattering onto roofs and pavement, helps.

She lies on the bed, the frame groaning, and pulls out her phone.

_Surprise! I'm in Metropolis for the weekend. Any chance of you having some time for your favorite cousin?_

She waits another minute, scrolling through emails and Facebook, waiting to see if she's caught Clark at a good time. There's no response. Kara gets up instead. On the dresser across from the bed is a cluster of picture frames. She picks one up at random and nearly drops it — it's Cat. Cat as a child, but it's unmistakably her. Her face hasn't changed all that much, really. It's sharpened a bit, lost its baby fat, but she has the same eyes. She's holding hands with someone off-camera, her mouth unsmiling.

Kara puts it down, feeling a twinge of guilt. She probably shouldn't even be looking at these. But Cat must know they're in this room, and she's the one who put Kara in here… Kara picks up another picture. Another photo of Cat. Maybe 17 or so. Wearing black graduation robes and a hat. This time she's smiling. It's a somewhat pained look, like she's being forced into it. Kara winces in sympathy.

She's reaching for the third photo when her phone buzzes from the bed.

_Kara! Why didn't you tell me earlier? I was called away this weekend._

Sighing, she types back: _It was kind of last-minute. Sorry._

_Lois is around. I'm sure she'd love to see you._

_Actually_ , Kara writes, _I'm pretty sure I'll see her at the Daily Planet's Woman of the Year awards dinner._

_Was Supergirl invited?_

Kara laughs a little. _No. But Cat won and she decided she had to have her assistant with her._

 _Rough._ _Make sure you get some time off for yourself, okay?_

 _Thanks._ _Wish I could've seen you._

_Me too._

She crosses back to the dresser. The third photo is in black and white — Cat bent over a bassinet, her smile worn and exhausted. She must be looking at Carter. It's a different Cat. Softer than the one Kara sees, though she feels like she sometimes catches glimpses of this Cat when she's Supergirl. She's a hazy sort of beautiful, the focus a little blurry, but Kara's caught by the sweetness in Cat's eyes, the gentle curve of her mouth. She lingers over this picture longer than the others, tracing a finger along Cat's expression, hypnotized.

When she puts it back down, she angles it so it peeks out from behind the others. Just a little. Just enough.

 

*

 

Kara wakes up with a start. The room's dark and quiet, unfamiliar. It takes a second for her to remember where she is. Metropolis. Cat's brownstone.

She lies still, breathing in and out, hoping she'll fall back asleep. The house creaks and rustles and settles around her. But she's too agitated now, awake and restless and voraciously hungry. She shouldn't have gone upstairs without a snack. Kara sighs as she kicks off the sheets.

She's halfway down the stairs when she realizes the light's still on from the living room. She tip-toes in. Cat's fallen asleep on the couch, the laptop still perched in her lap, her glasses sliding off her nose. Kara freezes. She's never seen Cat like this. Open. Vulnerable. Sleeping makes her look younger, the glow of the lamplight catching in her curls and turning them deep gold. Her hands are still curled around the edge of the laptop. Kara wonders how often Cat falls asleep like this at home.

She probably shouldn't be seeing this at all — Cat would hate it — but the sight makes Kara's heart do the strangest twist inside her chest.

Kara lifts herself a few inches above the ground and floats over to Cat, gently extracting the laptop and placing it on the coffee table. Cat makes a sleepy noise, like a very faint protest. There's a blanket draped over a nearby armchair, and Kara lightly tucks it around Cat as best she can. She tugs at the frames of the glasses.

Cat opens her eyes.

"Oh!" Kara exclaims, almost falling backwards. "Miss Grant — sorry!"

"Kara," Cat says, her voice scratchy with sleep. Great. Kara will be thinking about that _forever._

"I woke up. I was a little hungry. I thought — and then I saw you had fallen asleep and — I didn't want you to catch a cold."

Cat squints at her and yawns, covering her mouth with a delicate gesture. "Calm down before you hurt yourself, Kiera. It was very thoughtful of you."

"You're welcome," Kara says, unsure of what to add.

"I thought you were on your way to raid the kitchen."

"I…was."

Cat picks up her laptop again. "Why don't you get something for both of us. I could eat."

"What would you like?" Kara's mind races through the things Cat usually enjoys: lattes, lettuce wraps, elaborate salads and very rare steak.

"Oh, anything," Cat says, distracted.

Helpful.

Kara scours the kitchen, hoping for some culinary inspiration to strike. The fridge is crammed full with juices and milk alternatives, fresh fruits and vegetables. She could maybe make some eggs? Kara goes through the pantry. It's like being in a Whole Foods. Everything is organic, nothing processed, except for a lone package of Oreos in the back corner. Kara wonders if it's for Cat or Carter. The image of Cat twisting apart an Oreo to eat the filling first makes Kara smile.

She finds peanut butter in the pantry and strawberry jam. There's a loaf of 12-grain bread in the breadbox. Kara makes them each a sandwich, neatly cutting them into triangles. When she walks back into the living room with the plate and two glasses of almond milk, Cat's still frowning at her computer screen.

"I don't really cook that much," Kara says apologetically, setting the plate down. After another beat of hesitation, she sits down at the end of Cat's couch.

"Hmm," Cat hums. She picks up half a sandwich and takes a huge bite. Jam smudges the corner of her lips. Kara nearly crushes her own sandwich when Cat wipes the jam away with a finger and licks it off.

They chew in companionable silence for a minute. Kara's eyes wander down to the spread of papers across the coffee table. Cat's been editing.

"I like this house," Kara says, breaking the quiet. She offers Cat a smile. "I know I said that before, but it's — different. It's not how I would've imagined it. But it's nice in a different way."

"Do you?" Cat looks around lazily. "I have mixed feelings. It was my mother's house. I grew up here."

Kara blinks. "Oh."

"I bought it from her about seven years ago. She had some financial troubles, and I was feeling too sentimental to let the house go on the market. I've been meaning to redecorate for years."

Kara thinks about what it means, being here, in the house Cat grew up in. She thinks about the photographs on her dresser. It's a lot to take in.

"There are some pictures I found in my room," she says slowly. "I think… They're of you?"

Cat smiles. It's a small smile. "Oh, I'm sure. Only child. My mother liked to at least put on the appearance that she cared."

"I like the one of you with Carter. You're looking into his bassinet. It's… I don't know. It's really beautiful. The way you're looking at him."

Cat goes quiet, and Kara's pulse starts thundering. She's gone too far, obviously. She shouldn't have said anything at all. Oh god, now she's going to get fired because she's said something inappropriate about her boss —

"Thank you, Kiera," Cat says finally. "I had a professional photographer come a few days after Carter was born. I know my ex-husband thought it was a waste — as he did many things — but I haven't regretted it."

Kara takes another bite of her sandwich, nodding. Her cheeks are hot.

"Beautiful?" Cat asks, sounding just the tiniest bit amused.

"I didn't mean like _beautiful_ beautiful," Kara gets out. "I meant, like, maternally beautiful. Not that you're only maternal, because you're not. You're also a very powerful woman in your own right. I just meant — "

Cat smirks. Kara blushes harder. She picks at the crust on her bread, tearing it off in a strip.

"Don't dig yourself in too deep, Kiera," Cat says, voice dry. "But I appreciate the thought all the same."

"What was it like, growing up here?"

"A mixed bag," Cat says crisply. "My mother, well, you've met. She's…an interesting woman. She held a lot of readings here when I was young. When she wasn't traveling, of course. I was often left with a nanny. Something I try to avoid with Carter, though, yes, sometimes it's unavoidable. But — she was also my mother. She loved me in her own selfish way. And, as a child, I was desperate for validation. As most children are."

Kara reaches out, lightly touches Cat's hand resting on top of the blanket. Her breath spirals out of her, pulled like the tide. "Miss Grant, I'm so sorry."

"Oh, Kiera, it's fine. It's not a sob story." But she doesn't move her hand, letting it go still. Kara tries to not think about it, how all her nerves are concentrated in her fingers, every inch of her cognizant of the way Cat's hand feels beneath hers.

"My parents," Kara says, looking down at where they're touching. "They were wonderful. _Really_ wonderful. I never once went to sleep doubting that I was loved. But they weren't perfect. They made mistakes. My mother — I think if I could go back in time and talk to her — I don't know. Sometimes I'm angry that they died. Which is stupid. I know it was an accident, but I'm angry anyway."

Cat turns her hand palm-up and squeezes Kara's. Once. Twice. "You're allowed."

Kara's suddenly dangerously close to tears. She swallows. "Am I?" It comes out watery.

"Yes," Cat says firmly. "And if they had gotten to watch you grow up, you would have argued and fought and been angry a whole lot more. Don't add this guilt to the burdens you're already carrying. People are fallible. You can be angry and love someone. You can even be my mother and love someone. God knows how, but it happens."

She squeezes Kara's hand again and then withdraws hers.

"It's late. We should get some sleep. Leave the dishes. I'll do it. Nobody loads the dishwasher right." Cat throws the blanket off herself, getting to her feet. "Goodnight, Kiera."

"Goodnight, Miss Grant." Kara stands to leave.

"Cat."

Kara spins around. "I — goodnight, Cat." The name sounds weird in her mouth.

She hovers when she reaches the second-floor landing, listening to the noises from the kitchen, of Cat cleaning up. Kara grips the banister, letting out a shuddering breath. She's not sure what any of it _means_ , if Cat is going to wake up tomorrow morning and forget it ever happened. Her heart's doing something strange in her chest, a collection of flips and turns that seems to tighten and loosen with each breath.

It's not until Cat starts up the stairs that Kara realizes she's still hovering in the dark. She uses a burst of super speed to hurry herself back to her room. She lies down, taking off her glasses, and tries her best not to listen to the sounds of Cat getting ready for bed next door. Cat, changing into her sleep clothes. Cat, padding down to the bathroom to brush her teeth. Cat, sinking into bed with a sigh.

Kara turns over and buries her face in her pillow.

Great.


End file.
